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Once, I was in the womb,
Time relentless ticking on,
Unsocialised, unspeaking,
Still furled.
These days,
When blinking out into the world
From restless morning sleep,
Or shaking my head clear
Of some everyday engrossing thought,
I am furl-minded still,
Twitching embryonic extremities
Into an unknown space.
And yet, this striding person,
The rational thought hero I’ve created,
Quickly forgets
The translucent-edged mystery
Of her origin.
With a blink, a shake,
She brings consciousness back into line,
And plots a chart through experience
To the sound of the clock.
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